


Cow Chop Secret Santa

by nyasty_boy



Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: M/M, Roofies, cowchop secret santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 22:43:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13133745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyasty_boy/pseuds/nyasty_boy
Summary: for @talented-headache over at tumblr!!!





	Cow Chop Secret Santa

**Person A and B are totally crushing and in love. While person a and everybody else knows this B is so oblivious to their own feelings let alone person A’s** ****  
  
Aleks was easily distracted, he knew it. He blamed it on anything else he could despite knowing the true answer. He blamed the weather, Mishka, Celia, anything or anyone; but never himself. When he couldn't find a way out of a situation, he'd either fight his way out or he'd use his 'charm' and change the subject. 

So when James came to him on a quiet Saturday, no one had called for any bounties and they had no heists planned, and asked why the guns were put together sloppily (verbatim  _ “a third grader put these together, didn't they? Did you fucking buy a third grader?" _ ) Aleks didn't have an excuse. He panicked.   
  
"It's Brett's fault," the reply was too immediate, voice a slight pitch higher and cheeks flushed, "he was distracting me." Aleks felt his ears burn as the flush spread to cover the entirety of his face, then trailing down his neck.   
  
James rolled his eyes, "I'm not as dumb as you think, what were you doing?"   
  
"I swear to god it's Brett's fault, he must'a put something in my food, I couldn't concentrate." Aleks shrugged weak and leant back, chair creaking and fingernails tapping along the desk in an annoying rhythm.   
  
A knowing smirk spread across James' face and he leant against the desk, chest bumping the monitors and rattling a few knick-knacks on the desk, "sure, sure... I bet..." he gave a cat like grin before walking off with a sharp  _ fix the fucking guns! _   
  
—   
  
Aleks’ bluffing skills weren’t good when he was put on the spot, but if he’d had time to plan he was a spectacular liar. He could create personas and characters to slip into for bounties or hits without even hesitating.   
  
Maybe he should have become an actor instead of starting a gang.

But, that wasn’t relevant now. Aleks walked through the bar with a purpose, sitting down carefully and running a hand through his hair. He looked around, noted where his team-mates were, and ordered a drink. Then he waited.

And waited.

And waited

And  _ waited _ . Hits never usually took this long, and aleks couldn’t kick the feeling that something was up until a firm hand landed on his shoulder, calluses rough through the sheer fabric of his shirt. He turned his head idly, acting casual.

“You’re looking pretty lonely tonight, doll-face…” the voice was husky, breath thick and hot against the shell of his ear. Aleks shuddered and blushed but acted casual, crossing his legs and leaning back slowly into the warm body, locking eyes with James across the room through his sunglasses as a sly smirk crossed his face. James rolled his eyes and looked away.

“I am, but i'm feeling a little better now that you’re here, hottie…” the thick accent in aleks’ voice turned it into a heavy drawl, he spun himself around on the chair and grinned up at the taller man. A sour feeling filled his gut when he locked eyes with Brett over the man’s shoulder. He shuddered again. This didn't feel okay anymore. He let the sick feeling settle and looped his arms around the man’s neck. The side of his thumb brushed the scar across the man’s cheek as he did so.

The man began to speak but Aleks couldn't draw his eyes from the scar. He zoned out as he stared dumbly. The shape and tone of the scar, how it dipped in some places and rose from the surface of his skin at others, reminded him of a scar he’d seen on Brett’s waist, the way it curved around the tanned skin and snaked from his hip around to the centre of his back. 

Everything reminded him of Brett, recently. How odd.

“-ey, hey, baby doll, if you're gonna be weird and zone out, i'm not gonna pay for that drink of yours.” aleks blinked rapidly, eyes focusing on the hand infront of his face that was steadily clicking. He nodded and took the hand carefully, grinning cat like.

“Sorry, hon, just a little distracted; what was that about paying for my drink?”   


\--

Being crowded up in a club bathroom was never at the top of his list, aleks had to admit, but it was a nice distraction. The hit had his hands up aleks’ shirt and teeth attached to his neck, sucking plenty of marks in an array of colours that could mimic delicate paints, pigments of red and blue mixing into heavy purples. Aleks had always been one for marks, scratches and hand marks both a close second under hickeys; it added to that high of showing off his body, showing off each subtle curve and each strong muscle, thick cords of tension under his skin. 

Aleks ran his hands through the thick hair, closing his eyes and gasping soft, feeling a slight bald spot and letting his mind run with it. He let the hands do what they wanted, his mind producing an image of Brett standing over him, Brett’s rough hands pushing under his shirt, Brett’s teeth biting down hard enough to draw blood. Brett’s tongue doesn't have a piercing, a cold, metal ball in the centre, though. 

Aleks jolted, feeling sour. He gasped slightly and brought his hands up, gripping the man’s face.

“Baby doll, wha-”

The sharp noise that filled the room, the sudden displacement of vertebrae in his neck, the way his eyes faded and stared blankly. They all collectively added to the sickness growing in aleks’ stomach. He grabbed the hit’s wallet and stumbled out of the bathroom, pale. He ignored the concerned looks from james across the room (and, coincidentally, the lack of any look from Brett, as he wasn't there) and rushed to the door, dismissing the hand on his shoulder, rushing to a nearby alley and collapsing to his knees, vomiting any semblance of food left in his system.

He felt  _ dirty _ , like his skin was crawling with bugs and as if he were a living parasite, dirt under every crevice. The hit must have slipped something into his drink,  _ fuck _ . The floor in front of aleks began to spin as he stumbled to his feet, leaning against the wall and coughing, hacking uselessly. He looked up slow and grimaced when footsteps slowly got closer, and, knowing he looked a mess, he shied away.

“Aleks, breathe…” the shape’s voice was warped, pitch rising and lowering sharply, never settling on a single octave., “breathe carefully, dude, it’s gonna be alright…”

He nodded weakly and hiccuped, frowning heavy and gritting his teeth before flinching away at the first touch on his cheek, letting the second touch settle on his shoulder. Aleks coughed again, falling forwards into the shape as the world went dark.

\--

Aleks never felt… right, after that night in the bar. 

He’d done hits before, for sure, but he’d never felt so dirty. He’d never been drugged, forced to feel so weak. He could remember the way someone had held him safely in the car back, the way hands had carded through his hair and lips had brushed the shell of his ear, soft words echoing in the silence of the car. 

Aleks curled up more on his bed, facing the wall and scratching gently at the most prominent hickey, shuddering and frowning. He felt sick whenever he thought of the hit, but he knew he was dead now. The hit had died by his own hand.

But what was this feeling? Thinking of the hit filled him with dread, made him feel sick to his stomach, but the shape… who was it? Thinking of them gave Aleks a rush of adrenaline, made him feel safe and warm. The hand in his hair felt like bliss, better than any drug in a powder room or any alcohol mixed by the best bartender. Aleks needed to find out who it was, find out who kept making him feel like this. 

Aleks stood suddenly, walking to the door and reaching out to open it-

-until the door swung open, forcing aleks to step back a few paces to prevent himself from falling over.

“Oh, you’re out of bed,” Brett’s voice was… nice. Aleks found it nice to listen to, “that’s good. How’re you feeling?”

He was unable to speak for a few moments, fiddling with the ends of his sleeves before he managed to find his voice, “I’m okay… Yeah. i'm feeling okay.”

“You sure?”

“...yeah.”

The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't comfortable either. It was jarring. Aleks was used to loud, brash Brett, not.. Not  _ quiet _ Brett.

“What happeend after the hit was done?”

“What?” it was like Brett wasn't listening, and aleks could tell that he was staring at the prominent marks on his neck with something that looked like disdain, “oh… well… i helped you into the car, anna gave you something for the drugs, and james drove us here. We’re at my place.”

Aleks looked around with a soft frown, then nodded sheepishly when he recognised the papers on the desk and the view from the balcony, “sorry for stealing your bed.”

“Its fine…” Brett stepped forwards, aleks couldn't help but blush, sighing out, “are you sure you’re feeling okay? You look sick…”   


Aleks had to pinch himself to prevent saying  _ “its a love bug” _ , letting Brett continue to walk closer and closer.

And closer.

And  _ closer _ ; oh god if he got any closer aleks would suffocate. But that would be good. There wasn’t anything wrong with being suffocated by Brett. When heavy, warm arms surrounded aleks, he let it happen. He slowly looped his arms around Brett’s shoulders. The warmth was comforting.

“I'm glad you’re feeling better,” Brett’s voice was unusually soft, breath warm and nice against his neck. Aleks shuddered.

“Thank you… thanks for, you know, helping me... “ aleks laughed weakly, “for carrying my fat ass to the car.”   


Brett smirked and pulled away slow, “you’re damn right you should be thankful. I thought i threw out my back.”

“Whatever, old man.” Aleks felt something light up in his chest, a spark of joy igniting. Aleks knew things would get better.

Yeah, he knew.

\--

But he was wrong.

The thing about running a gang is that you’re never safe, even in your own hideout. 

As i mentioned before, aleks liked to fight his way out of things. He found it just as easy to throw fists as it was for him to pick a persona and wear it proudly, like wearing a hat. Simply and without any effort. 

That’s what would get him killed. Not james after a gun was put together wrong; not a hit spiking his drink; not Brett coming close enough to smother him or strangle the ever living breath out of him with just a hug. Aleks’  _ fight or flight  _ way of living would have him killed, and most of the crew would specify this to a brutal, gorey death in which aleks has his head smashed in by a particularly spikey bat created by any of the rival gangs in LA (or even their previous gang leader, jordan, whom they hadnt left on a good note).

Aleks walked into the warehouse and could instantly sense something was amiss, the lights were off and there was no noise. This wasn't always strange, but aleks had just returned from lunch after receiving a message from james and he’d expected the warehouse to be full of noise. When he rounded the corner, he noticed why.

James was tethered to one of the many desk chairs they owned, and anna was in a similar position next to him. They both had large bruises scattered around their faces, and the strap of anna’s vest had been cut, a deep gash on her chest.

Aleks stayed quiet at first, taking his gun from his belt and clicking off the safety, aiming at the man texting casually on his phone.

“You took your sweet time,” the man sounded overly casual, still texting, “i would have thought you’d have come faster, especially since your special guy is here.” there was a bitter poison in the man’s words, as if he’d drank acid. The thick accent jarred aleks, but he didn't show it.

“Who?” aleks narrowed his eyes, finger twitching on the trigger, eager to fight, to pull the trigger and end it all now. When Brett was pushed out of his office, nose obviously busted and his shirt shredded, cuts oozing blood slowly under it, soaking the ruined material. Aleks’ heart dropped into his stomach and he paled.

“The tiger, of course…” the man grinned as he turned around, chuckling lowly, “don't worry, the terms are simple. You, or the tiger.”

Aleks felt the air rush from his lungs before he felt his finger click on the trigger, a minute amount of pressure would cause the bullet to be released. He relented, dropping the gun. Aleks knew he wasn't as good a shot as james or anna, so he couldn't risk it. He blinked slow- cat-like, in a way -before remembering something brett had taught him when they first met, an easy escape for situations like these.

He looked brett in the eye and held the gun under his chin, the barrel cool against his pale skin. His throat clicked as he swallowed, blinking slow again. brett smirked slightly, as much as he could with his mutilated face, and nodded a little.

“Whoa! Whoa now, dude- aleks, holy fucking  _ shit _ \- we can just talk about this! Hey, evil guy! Let brett go and we can get you some fuckin’ money or something!” the panic in james’ voice was reasonable, he was watching his best friend hold a gun to his own head. Aleks grinned cattily and hummed.

He pulled the trigger.

\--

The panic that ensued after, well, brett expected it. 

The man put his own gun away while james thrashed wildly, screaming and shouting like a wild beast. He swung back and forth on his chair, while anna sat there in shock. Brett kept his smirk, this knowing,  _ sickly _ smirk that made the three other people in the room sick to their stomachs. 

As the man was leaving, walking so cockily and suck up like a peacock with its tail flared to impress, brett looked to aleks and waited patiently, watching the blood pool beneath his head and spread to soak his clothes, before his hand twitched and slowly raised, shooting the man in his lower back.

Brett rushed to untie james and anna with a bright laugh before running over to help aleks, taking his hand and pulling him to his feet, the relief was palpable. 

Aleks was pale, paler than usual, and his face and neck were covered in copious amounts of blood, but brett still felt a clear sense of love, of pure, unadulterated  _ love _ .

James sprinted over and was the first to hug him, “you fucking asshole, what was that?!”

“Ever seen  _ Fight Club _ ?” aleks’ voice was slurred, hoarse and unusually hollow. He grinned proudly like a wild tomcat. 

“What the FUCK!”   
  
  


**Fake Chop where the pairing keep trying to go on their first date but it keeps being** ****  
**interrupted by more increasingly weird and annoying things.** ****  
  
“Did we really get fucking roofied on our own fucking date-”

“Listen, aleks, it wasn't me-”

“ _ You _ were watching our drinks, james! You were meant to be watching our fucking drinks but now instead we’re fucking tied up in some- some sex dungeon!”

“Oh my god, aleks, its not  _ that _ bad-”

“ **_James!_ ** ”

The situation was… not wanted. But it wasn't a situation that was strange for the duo. Countless times they’d been kidnapped together, and the key mistake in these kidnappings was that the two of them were together in general. They were calm when separate. A gentle breeze and soft misty rain. They were a torrential storm when put together, passion and anger, a dangerous tornado and rain barreling down from the heavens themselves. Infuriatingly beautiful when together, yet they wreaked so much havoc that they wouldn't be together for long.

**Author's Note:**

> the first fic was my main focus, as u can tell, and i rlly enjoyed writing it! i reached the end of it and thought "this isnt long enough" and id just watched fight club so......yea sorry about that lmao
> 
> the second prompt, i just,,,,,, i had a tiny idea and didnt really know how to develop it? but i thought it would be nice to use but if u dont like it send me a message and i'll remove it <3
> 
> (while formatting the whole thing i noticed a large amount of roofie references... hm)


End file.
